I had a dream a few years ago. In fact it was eight months after my breast cancer diagnosis and lumpectomy.

I was a bit adrift in my life at that time, not exactly sure what I wanted to be doing next. Or perhaps I wasn’t yet ready to admit what I wanted to be doing next. That year was a process, a year of feeling my feelings and letting things unfold in their own time. I had become weary of pushing through things, of being ultra-responsible to many others while disregarding my own desires. This was a year of rest, reflection, discovery, and dreaming.

I had a dream in April of 2012. I was in a car wheeling down the road, in and around curves when I noticed a nearby policeman. Immediately I also realized that there was no one behind the driver’s wheel! I had a feeling the cop would probably take issue with that. My next thought was, “God’s driving.” I wondered how the policeman would feel about that. I smiled.

A few months ago I felt guided to create some divination cards based on some of the more potent dreams I’ve had. (“Divination,” for those unfamiliar with the term, is a process of using one’s intuition to divine guidance and answers to questions. Oftentimes other tools are involved: cards, runes, things with symbols on them.) I created this handmade deck of Sacred Dream cards. And I’ve been pulling this card a lot lately. “God’s driving.”

Nowadays, a little over three years after that dream, I have created a life for myself that is generally much less stressful than the one I had been living between the years of 2006 and 2011. Now any of the pressure I feel is mostly self-applied: How many chapters can I write? How many walks can I fit in this week? How many healthy meals can I make? Do I have time to meet with my grieving widow friend? Is it time for another call to Mom? How can I make a bit more money?

But pressure is still pressure, no matter it’s source. I still have more to learn about living a life of balance. How do I find the balance between action and reflection, between constantly prodding myself to be productive and allowing myself to have fun? Can I learn to stop pushing the river and go with the flow?

I absolutely believe that we create the life we’re living—either consciously or unconsciously. I have consciously been creating and manifesting a life that feels healthier to my body and spirit. At the same time, I feel relief to think of the wisdom of this dream.

God’s driving. With Him at the driver’s wheel, perhaps I can relax a little bit. Perhaps I don’t have to figure everything out all the time. Perhaps I can let go and just enjoy the ride.

I still don’t like getting mammograms. Not because they squish the most sensitive area of my body, although that’s not fun. Not because they’re really uncomfortable, although they are. But because I’m subjecting my body to more radiation, and radiation is one of several risk factors for developing cancer.

It’s just so crazy.

I’m so glad thermography has been developed as an alternate way of diagnosing breast cancer. But sadly, it is still not covered by insurance. I don’t know if it’s because it costs so much more or if it’s because the people who manufacture and profit from the mammogram machines are in cahoots with the insurance industry. But whichever it is, it puts women in a more tenuous position with regard to their health. And that just sucks.

I don’t have any clinician currently urging me to get another screening mammogram. (Although I’ve only had two, post- lumpectomy, and I know standard practice is to recommend them every six months for the first couple years or so.) In fact, I feel the healthiest I’ve been in almost twenty years. My diet keeps improving, I’m getting regular exercise, I’m living the life I want to live, and I’m happy. The only reason I’ve scheduled another set is I’ve had some more cancer dreams.

I am aware that most dreams have symbolic meanings and that cancer is no exception. But I also don’t like to rule out the possibility of “warning dreams.”

I had two or three cancer dreams in recent months, but in the one which felt scariest I dreamed a principal was scratching his head and that somehow this particular action meant he had brain cancer. And then a voice in my dream – a narrator kind of voice – said to me, “You have stage IV.”

So, because I pay attention to my dreams, and because I believe dreams always come for the purpose of health and healing (as dream expert and author Jeremy Taylor teaches), I will act as if these are warning dreams and double-check to make sure my breasts are still healthy. And, I will also check with some dream partners to ascertain if there is another meaning I should be aware of.

Meanwhile, I head to the hospital tomorrow for more freakin’ mammograms.

I trust all will be well. But unlike the person who keeps his keys in the ignition and then complains when his car has been stolen, I’m going to take precautions.

I have written about this before, but it bears repeating. Breasts are symbolic of nourishment. In this culture we tend to look upon breasts as symbols of sexual attraction, but obviously breasts were made to feed babies. Breasts are first and foremost about nourishment.

Last night a friend handed me a copy of Louise Hay’s Heal Your Body A-Z. He gave it to me because I was having some back issues, but as I leafed through it, I found the section on “Breast Problems.” Hay wrote as probable emotional cause: “A refusal to nourish the self. Putting everyone else first. Overmothering….”

So, I invite you to ask yourself: “Do I put the needs of others before my own?”

If you are a woman – and especially if you are a mother, I am willing to bet that often the answer is yes. And if you are a woman with elderly parents, or if you are a nurse or a social worker, or even if you are married, I bet the answer is often yes.

It seems many of us have been trained since we were very little to look after others. We may have had younger brothers and sisters to look after; we may have been trained to cook and clean and do the laundry – certainly moreso than any brothers we may have had. And when/if we married, most of us voluntarily took on the responsibility of most of the housecleaning and shopping and ferrying around of children. Even in our jobs we may have been trained to take care of our boss’s needs rather than our own.

Even if we are conscious of patriarchy’s presence in our lives and we do what we can to honor the rights of ourselves as women, most of us are nevertheless firmly committed to kindness. And while kindness is certainly a virtue, martyrdom is not. And many of us unconsciously cross the line from kindness into martyrdom.

If you’ve had a really rough day at work, for instance, and you’re worn to an absolute frazzle, how many of you will push yourselves to make dinner rather than ask your husband to pick up some take-out or, heaven forbid, even do the cooking himself? How many of you will throw something together even if you’re dead on your feet rather than ask the kids to make themselves a sandwich? I’m not saying we shouldn’t make nourishing our families a priority, I’m just suggesting that sometimes we need to honor our own needs first. If we are so depleted that we get sick, we obviously are serving no one, least of all ourselves.

I was blessed to have a relatively stress-free life when I was married and raising my young stepson. However in my fifties, my life got a bit more stressful. I was working for a hospice organization and had thirty to forty patients to look after. And then my mom had a heart attack and my dad had Alzheimer’s and so I jumped in to take care of them. And then, needing money, I took another hospice job and so I was taking care of both parents plus a roster of patients. Did I take care of myself? Not so much. I indulged in comfort food way too often. Because I also had a long commute, I didn’t have much time or energy for walking or other exercise. So generally, I was unhappy and exhausted and burned out.

I share this as a gentle reminder to women everywhere. Be kind to yourself. If at all possible, structure your life in such a way that you are not overburdened. And if your choices are limited, make sure that at least there are plenty of release valves. Figure out a time each day when you can take a short walk. Or wake a bit earlier so that you can meditate. And if you absolutely must work outside the home while simultaneously raising kids, if possible, have help around the house. Delegate. Negotiate with your partner and older children to make sure they do their fair share of the household chores. Make sure you have time out with girlfriends during which you can just be yourself. Try to make room for massages or a yoga class or gym membership in your budget. Find ways to relieve stress. Stress is a major factor in most illnesses, including breast cancer.

Like the flight attendants remind us at the beginning of each flight, put on your own oxygen mask before helping your child. We can’t take care of others if we don’t first take care of ourselves. And it is essential that we take care of ourselves while we are relatively well or we will be forced to do it when we are ill.

This post is for women. Especially women of a certain age. I confess I am rather hoping that the men I know do not read this. But I’m learning that when things are uncomfortable for me, it doesn’t mean I’m not supposed to share.

This post is about “aging” breasts.

In this culture, breasts, for good or ill, are very much a part of what is considered sexually attractive. I am fortunate that even after my lumpectomy and subsequent weight loss, I still have large breasts. However now that I am officially considered menopausal – it has been over a year since I’ve stopped bleeding – I’ve noticed my breasts are different. They are not as full and round and perky as they once were.

The ego part of me, the part of me that grew up in this American culture, struggles with this. Here, breasts are prominently displayed on every other billboard, are blatantly paraded in movies and sit-coms, and are splashed throughout magazine ads. We glorify breasts here, and we glorify young, round, pert ones. We even adulate fake ones. (But that’s a subject I’ll save for another time.)

The other part of me knows, deep down, that there is no shame in aging. This wise part of me knows that we are all multi-dimensional beings who are ever so much more than our physical appearance.

But I cannot easily negate or erase the feelings the ego part of me has.

One time I was in a gathering which included two men from Africa. I cannot remember how we got on the topic. I think I was talking about older women and the subject of power. Anyway, one of these gentlemen mentioned that there is a term in Africa for ‘the woman who fed you’ (breastfed you.) It is a term of enormous respect and affection. I love this! I love that they honor these women who gave them nourishment and kept them alive. I love that breasts are acknowledged and revered for nourishing and sustaining life. I find it sad that we have sexualized breasts to such an extent that a woman cannot even breastfeed her baby in public without facing harassment or disapproval. This is certainly not true in Africa and other parts of the world.

I used to think breasts got saggy because of simple gravity. But now I am realizing it is because the milk ducts atrophy. When a woman reaches menopause, there is no longer a possibility of giving birth (unless a miracle happens along the lines of Abraham’s wife, Sarah.) And when there is no longer the need to care for a baby, the milk ducts shrink. Hence, the breasts change shape and begin to sag a bit.

So… how do I – how do any of us – endeavor to feel sexy and attractive even with breasts that are aging, or scarred, or removed, or replaced with synthetic ones? The best way, I imagine, is to focus on our overall health and inner beauty. If we are healthy and happy, that beauty really will shine through. The right people, the best people, will see your beauty no matter what. It probably goes without saying, but anyone who “loves” you only for your breasts, obviously does not love you at all.

Recently I stumbled upon and reread one of my journals from two years ago. Two years ago was half a year after my breast cancer diagnosis and subsequent lumpectomy. It was a time during which I had removed myself from much of “regular life.” I was not working a “regular job,” I was not socializing, I was definitely being a bit of a hermit. Cancer had thrown me for a loop and I was struggling to find my footing. Withdrawing from life seemed necessary at the time, although that doesn’t mean I didn’t sometimes judge myself for it.

When I first discovered the symptoms that took me to my primary doctor and then very quickly to a breast specialist, I was busy working on a big project and trying to start a new business. In the midst of all this busyness, I had a second appointment with the specialist. As I was getting ready to go to the appointment, I was finding myself stumbling on things, I was so stressed. When I took a moment to check in, I realized I was extremely anxious. I was scarcely breathing and I felt like I was ready to scream. Then it finally dawned on me that I’d become so busy worrying about making money that I hadn’t taken the time to even figure out what this momentous “breast thing” might mean for me and what I might want to do or not do as a result. I was about to show up at this appointment completely unprepared.

I stopped for a moment and sat down to breathe. And then – no surprise – I started to cry. I gave myself permission to feel all my anxiety and fear. And from that moment on, my attitude changed. NOTHING became as important as what was going on with my body and the decisions I had to make about my care.

As soon as I returned from that appointment I did a heck of a lot of research. I also decided to go to the beach to have a small retreat and try to get clarity about my next course of action. After a couple hours there with the sun and the ocean, I suddenly remembered a dream I had once had but then “forgotten.” In the dream I was asked, “How’s your cancer?” I was stunned that I’d had that dream and then tucked it back into my subconscious. I suddenly realized I didn’t need to stay at the shore anymore; I’d gotten what I came for. I realized I needed to go home and look at my dream journals. I also realized I wanted a different doctor. I wanted someone who would listen to my concerns and include me in decisions about my treatment as opposed to simply telling me what “we” were going to do.

During the course of the next several days, weeks and months, I spent a great deal of time in the process of introspection and reflection. Meanwhile, I wasn’t bringing in any money. Needless to say, that was a bit stressful, but I couldn’t seem to focus on anything as mundane as a job. I know that sounds ridiculous, but nothing in me wanted to work at a regular job. I was seriously burned out from several years of hospice work and intensive caregiving (of others, not me!) And I was actually feeling strongly guided to not begin another job at that point. And then the Universe conspired to support me in that decision by causing my car to break down. I had no money to fix my car and so I stayed home. And continued with my introspection, reflection, and research.

I also took a lot of walks. And I wrote. A lot. I called a few friends. I also did something I hadn’t done in many, many years. I vegged. In extreme. I watched loads of Netflix. I did the Facebook thing. I sat in front of the screen of my laptop more hours than I care to admit. But this was where I was at at the time – in a place of non-doing. I didn’t feel like being a contributing member of society. I just needed to be by myself. A lot.

That doesn’t mean I didn’t judge myself. I did that a lot, too. This society doesn’t look kindly upon idleness. I confess I got a bit depressed. I was poor, I had no car, I had no job except for the occasional odd job, and I was worried about whether I’d “done enough” to fight the cancer I’d been diagnosed with. But now, two years later, I realize this fallow time was absolutely necessary from a spiritual perspective.

Cancer is such a wake-up call. It is seldom simply a physical disease. It is always, if we let it be, an impetus for change and growth. Healthy growth.

My guess is that a lot of women who get breast cancer have been neglecting themselves. Most women are oh so very good at taking care of others. Here is what the four years prior to my diagnosis looked like:

For a couple years I was a hospice chaplain in New Mexico. At one point I was serving two offices and commuting upwards of four hours a day – not counting all the driving between clients scattered throughout the central part of the state.

My workload increased as the job of bereavement counselor was added to my duties.

Then I left the hospice job and started doing private caregiving.

Then I moved back home to help care for my parents. My mother had had a heart attack and a small stroke, and Dad was in the early stages of Alzheimer’s.

While caring for my parents, I got some more caregiving jobs.

The opportunity arose to become a hospice chaplain yet again, this time in New Jersey. And once again, I had almost an hour’s commute each way.

So for four years I was caring for other people. Relentlessly. That was my job. I cared for clients, staff, parents. But not so much myself. I was pretty much in survival mode for much of that time. My energy reserves were very low. I did my work as well as I possibly could, and then when I got home, I kind of crashed. It was hard to summon up the energy to prepare myself a good meal. And on weekends, I was happy to just stay home. I didn’t feel like driving anywhere.

In retrospect, it is so obvious why I got cancer. I needed something drastic to happen before I would have the courage and wisdom to say no to obsessively caring for others and yes to caring for me. Not that I wouldn’t care for others on an emotional level (although my energy for that was more limited), but that I wouldn’t subsume myself in the needs of others at the expense of my own.

After a month or so I decided to stop fighting this desire to not work. I realized that if my intuition was guiding me to not work a “regular job,” then I would simply need to find a way to reduce my expenses. They were already fairly low, but I did have rent. That was my biggest expense. Then my intuition kicked in again. It said to ask a friend if I could live with them for a while and barter my rent. They said yes!

During that next year I wrote, I walked their dog (and myself), I slept, I dreamed, I prepared healthy food, I drew, I painted, I gave a few massages, did a few odd jobs. But mostly, I simply cocooned. I badly needed to hibernate and stop focusing so much on others.

Here is what I now realize. That downtime, that retreat time, that withdrawal from the world, enabled my energy to rise again. I had to give myself that time to determine what my spirit needed and what I needed my life to look like. I had to ask myself “What did I want to do less of?” and “What did I want to do more of?” And very gradually, as I sank into and allowed this delicious downtime, the sap began to flow again. My energy began to return. I knew what my spirit wanted to do. I began to pursue my dreams. I allowed myself to make plans to move. I began focusing on my passions and my purpose. And I finally realized that focusing on my own deepest dreams and desires was what most greatly contributed to my highest health and well-being.

Too often we wait for something rather catastrophic to happen before making big changes. Don’t wait. If you’re feeling depressed, stressed, anxious, unsettled, there’s a reason for this. Be kind to yourself and figure out what you’ve always wanted to do. Then give yourself permission to do it. You will find yourself with more vitality than you’ve felt in a long time.

I have already announced the results on Facebook, but for those who don’t know me in that context, I finally, finally, finally, finally got my second post-lumpectomy mammogram. It was twenty months after the first follow-up one, which was fourteen months after they wanted me to have one. (And the first follow-up one was three months after they recommended me to have one. Can you tell I’m not crazy about mammograms???) Two psychics and an intuitive had told me I was cancer-free, but I did the mammo for peace of mind for myself and for any friends who had concerns.

I was able to make the one-hour trip to the hospital free of anxiety. I was able to walk to the receptionist and then the radiology department anxiety-free. I was even okay while the technician lifted each breast into place, squashed them, and radiated them. I also felt fine while waiting for her to upload the films to the radiologist who was off-site that day. (Apparently the social worker scheduled me on a day when the radiologist was not on-site. Those with a history of breast cancer are supposed to come Mondays and Tuesdays. Fortunately the technician kindly allowed me to continue with the mammo that Wednesday due to the fact that I had made an hour-long trip to get there.) (I live in a tiny mountain town in Colorado, one hour from the two nearest hospitals.)

But even though I didn’t consciously feel any anxiety, after I heard the results I was amazed at how relieved I felt. “You are free and clear,” she said. Phew. It was like I finally let go of the breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. I had thought that I’d probably ultimately be fine, but I thought (like the last few times) there would be something “suspicious” or “disturbing” that they’d want to investigate further. At some level I just expected them to want to do extra x-rays (like they had before) or ultrasounds (like they had before) and then to want to do various rather invasive, uncomfortable biopsies (like they had before.) Somehow I was not prepared for: You’re good to go!

I felt so incredibly light walking out of that hospital. I felt like I was floating. I continued to feel joy for the rest of the day.

I am so very, very grateful for this gift.

And I am sending much, much, much love to the numerous friends who have not been so blessed.

Okay, so I have had two “cancer dreams” this week. In the first one, there were several of us looking at a whole array of things designed to fight cancer. After looking at everything, I came to a place of surrender. I decided I didn’t want to do all this stuff. I was either going to be well or I was not.

In the second dream, I had had a mammogram and there were two places of concern I was supposed to talk to the radiologist about.

I imagine these are warning dreams. They are saying, “Please, go get a mammogram now!” On the other hand, they could be fear dreams. They could be saying, “You are afraid of a cancer recurrence and we will reflect your fears to you.”

The primary reason I have not had a mammo in the past six to eight months is: I don’t have insurance. I made several calls and appointments to try to get a reduced-price mammogram and I didn’t get anywhere. And I’m sad to say, I gave up. Or rather, I put it aside for a while. Now these dreams and my intuition are saying, “Get it done. Find a way and get it done.”

I had an insight today while listening to Christi Calvano Maybo at Circle of Miracles (a place to go on a Sunday morning to be inspired by spiritually enlightened people.) She was speaking about how if we are in service to others but not to ourselves, we will get ourselves in trouble. We will find our joy rapidly disappearing. She spoke about how essential it is to be kind to ourselves. She spoke about the need to receive as well as give. She spoke about how we need to stop listening to the “supposed to’s” and listen instead to our heart. Our heart will steer us rightly. Our heart will tell us what is right for us.

This is a lesson I thought I had learned. I know I had “lost myself” when caring for my parents. But eventually I made changes and started listening to my heart’s desires. This was good. However I realized this morning that there might be an additional lesson. And I think it is this: I need to learn to take care of myself even when I think I can’t afford it.

Those of you who know me well know that I have long had struggles over money issues. This continues to be an area in need of healing and major shift. I am quite aware that if I were more financially abundant, I would be getting mammograms, going to doctor appointments, eating much healthier on a much more consistent basis, going to various healers, and taking various supplements. All of this is difficult with no “extra” money and no insurance. But that doesn’t mean I shouldn’t be taking care of myself! I can’t use this as an excuse.

If I had a friend who wasn’t getting medical care because of a lack of money, I would rapidly suggest many options to her (i.e., make this phone call, go to that clinic, etc.) I would nudge and nag and encourage her to follow whatever avenues were available. I would pray for her and support her in whatever way I could. Should I not then do the same for myself???

This is a big, big lesson for me. Don’t stop taking care of yourself just because it’s hard, Cindy. Find a way. Find a way.